chapter thirteen

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Chapter Thirteen

Steam curls up against Zayn's reddened cheeks as he takes another sip of his hot tea. His fingers curl around the mug tightly. Harry admires the floral tattoo that stains his olive skin, bumping over his knuckles with beautiful patterns. His body is like a work of art.

He's definitely one of the most popular dancers at Fool's Gold. While most of the strippers are petite, young twinks, Zayn is a majestic sex god with rippling muscles, tattooed skin, and pierced ears. He offers some variety for the customers who crave bad boys and troublemakers. His stage name is ironic, Harry thinks, because he's anything but angelic.

When Harry first started working at Fool's Gold, Zayn was the first dancer to make him feel welcome. He showed him the ropes, taught him how to apply makeup, and even gave him a few critiques whenever he practiced on the pole. Harry deeply admires his work ethic and his concern for others. Although he masks his appearance as a rebel, he's really just a sweet, kind, selfless twenty-two year old.

Currently, they're gathered inside of Louis's cabin. Zayn sits across from Louis and Harry on the opposite sofa, sipping his tea silently. It's dark outside, pitch black, with the full moon shining brightly in the sky. White moonlight soaks through Louis's curtains. Since his cottage is nestled in the deep wilderness, they can hear wildlife and nighttime birds screeching in the darkness. The wind whistles against his glass windows and muffles their voices.

"So," Zayn says, clearing his throat. His gaze shifts between Harry and Louis, who sit together on the couch with their hands nearly touching. "I have a feeling you two are more than just mates."

Harry gulps. The truth is, he doesn't know if they are more than platonic. They have yet to discuss labels, but he doesn't know if he can emotionally handle that conversation right now. He's starting to accept the fact that Louis is his bond, but he's not sure if he's ready to accept him as his lover. Or if he even wants Louis to be his lover.

"I don't want there to be any lies between us," Zayn huffs out. "What happened earlier was very... intense, and I'm concerned for you, Rose. I really am."

Harry's mouth feels dry. "Listen, Angel. I can't really explain what's going on between Louis and I. To be honest, I'm trying to understand it myself. But— I'm safe, okay? I promise."

Zayn tilts his head apprehensively. "You weren't acting like yourself. You were so... distant. Like you couldn't live unless you had Louis by your side. That's not healthy."

Louis tenses. "I would never hurt Harry," he assures.

He genuinely means it. Even the very thought of harming Harry makes his stomach feel queasy. As his protector, it's Louis's job to watch over him and assist him through his transition. It's like a paternal instinct, but less fatherly. More animalistic.

(Although, Louis wouldn't mind if Harry called him Daddy.)

Zayn sighs at length. "Then why can't you tell me what's going on?"

"It's complicated," Louis says simply. His arm curls protectively around Harry's shoulder. He can feel his weight pressing down on his neck, and it acts as a constant reminder that Louis is here by his side, keeping him safe.

"Right," Zayn breathes. "I had a feeling you were gonna say that."

Harry frowns. "I just—"

"I looked up your symptoms online," Zayn interrupts. "Attachment, fatigue, excess sleep, feelings of worthlessness, and loss of appetite. I must say, I'm surprised at what I stumbled across."

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